


The Merc Who Won't Leave My Apartment

by Joeybird



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: (Question Mark), Drabble Collection, Fluff, Human Peter, I really dont know what else to tag this, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Single Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-03-15 10:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joeybird/pseuds/Joeybird
Summary: When a body crashes in through his apartment window, Peter Parker finds himself as the lone caretaker of a strange mercenary who doesn't know when it's time to leave.____A collection of funny moments between spideypool in a single setting with no real plot in mind.





	1. Chapter 1

**_ A Dramatic Entrance _ **

* * *

 

It was a peaceful day in downtown Manhattan, with the tweeting sounds of birds and the occasional barmp of a car horn. Beautiful really, as the summer sun was so bright in the sky, blanketing the whole city in warmth.

Stirring a freshly made pot of stew, Peter rocked back and forth on his heels, humming a gentle tune as his antique radio played another harmonious song. _But it was getting a bit stuffy_ , Peter thought. He dropped the wooden spoon onto the counter as he made his way across the tiny apartment towards the living room, shimmying the rusted window open, careful not to damage it in any way. The last time he tried opening it, he ended up snapping the bottom half right off, and had to pay a hefty amount to get it fixed.

As Peter was about to turn around, he saw the tiniest little blue jay fly in through the window to land on the tiny table in front. He couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, as the blue jay looked all too chubby to be able to even fly. He wanted to leave the bird there; letting it to do its own thing in peace, but he knew that if he did so, soon enough there would probably be little bird droppings all around the house.

“Visiting hours are over, sorry!” Peter said, shooing the bird back out the window. He leaned onto the table as he watch its chubby body fly away into the bright blue sky, and he couldn’t help but sigh with content.

That is until something caught his eye. Something big and red, and it was coming directly at him. Peter reacted, diving out of the way just in time for a large object to fly into the window. The shattering of glass met his’s ears as he lay in a fettle position. Peaking his eye open, he gazed upon what was once a rusted window now just a hole in the wall. The next thing Peter heard was groaning, and as he turned his tense head towards the sound, his eyes widened.

A body was spiralled out in his Livingroom, wearing what looked to be red and black spandex. It took a moment for Peter to react, but as soon as he did, the only words he managed to say were:

“What the hell…?”

Peter heard groaning once more, and when the body moved, Peter jumped to his feet, ready to defend himself in case this person tried to attack. When the stranger seemed to finally come to, their head turned, glancing around at where they were, before their gaze landed on Peter.

“Oh, hello!” It was a man's voice, with what sounded like a terrible British accent. “Nice place ‘ya got here.”

The strange man quickly hopped to his feet, dusting away the giant glass shards that were stuck in his legs like it were nothing. Peter could only gape as the man walked over and peaked his head out the broken window, humming what sounded to be some Britney Spears song as he surveyed the damages.

“Wow, that was really a crash landing!” His upbeat voice caught Peter off guard. “What a dingy window… I heard about Home Depot having a really good sale on these bad boys – you should definitely check that out.” He picked up what looked to be a gun off of the ground, shoving it into his holster – one of many – before making a b-line to the door.

Realizing what was happening, Peter scuffled to his feet, running over in front of the man.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Peter demanded to know.

“Leaving? Unless of course-” The man began squirming awkwardly, while putting two hands onto his face as if he were blushing under the mask he wore. “I-if you wanted to have your way with me, I g-guess I wouldn’t mind – JUST BE GENTLE!!” He squealed.

Peter couldn’t help but gape at the bizarre creature in front of him. “N…No…! No, god no!” He said exasperated. “You just blew a hole in my dingy window!”

“Ah yes, I do recall that happening.” The man said matter-of-factly.

“So…”

“So…”

“So you need to pay for it!” Peter shouted, wondering how the man couldn’t comprehend what he was getting at.

“Ah right!” The man then shoved his hands into one of the pockets on his skin-tight suit. After a few moments of fishing around, he pulled out a little pink Hello Kitty coin purse, opening it and pulling out a nickel. He placed it in Peter’s hand before clicking it shut again.

Peter immediately flung the coin back at the man.

“Ow!”

“I’m serious!”

The man seemed to put his hand onto his chin in response, rubbing it as he began to circle around Peter, and Peter couldn’t help but tense up.

“Okay, I’ll made you a deal!” His jolly voice announced once he circled back around.

Peter raised a brow.

“I’ll fix your window with my _bare hands_ , but only if you give me a piece of that ass.”

Peter’s knee ended up in the man’s crotch, and he was now on the floor, gripping himself as he let out a slow groan.

“You’re going to fix it for _free_ , and if you’re lucky enough, I _wont_ call the cops!”

“Holy sadist alert! That’s some kinky shit right there.”

Peter’s foot landed in between his legs once again, and another groan emerged. Peter knew that the man had weapons on him, but he really wasn’t in the mood to care.

“Now, are you going to quit being a smart ass, or am I going to have to curb stomp your ball sack?”

Peter watched as the man seemed to contemplate his options, before finally he stiffly stood up.

“I’ll go get the supplies.” The man said, rubbing his lower regions in pain with one hand, and reaching for the door handle with the other, but Peter stopped him once again.

“Do you think I was born yesterday?”

“With a cute baby face like that, I’d say-”

Peter’s knee shot out once more, but the man dodged out of it’s way before anymore damage could occur.

“Okayokayokay.” He said in rapid succession.

“No, if you’re going to buy shit to fix that,” Peter pointed to the window. “I’m going to need something you own to _make sure_ you come back.” Peter thought for a moment. “Umm, give me your… Hello Kitty purse.”

The man gasped. “Oh, aren’t you just the _DEVIL!_ ” He huffed out, but Peter merely kept his hand out, waiting for the item. The man fished around in his pockets once again, pulling out the coin purse and passing it to the boy. “If you even get a _speck_ of dirt on her, I will _NEVER_ forgive you!”

“Just get going dude, it’s getting drafty in here.”

“Deadpool.”

“What?”

“The names Deadpool.” The man – Deadpool – said it with pride.

“Well _Deadpool_ , you better get back here fast with a new window before the big vein in my head pops.”

And with that, Mr. Deadpool was out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

  ** _What Do You Mean You’re Staying the Night?_**

* * *

 

The nightlife had come out, and as the twilight sky began inching it’s way closer and closer to night, Peter felt like an utter fool.

Mr. Deadpool hadn’t returned, and it had been almost six hours since his depart. Of course he hadn’t. Why would he? _If_ he did, it wouldn’t be for the flimsy coin purse Peter so idiotically thought meant something to it’s strange owner.

Peter had cleaned up all the broken glass and woodchips (from the end table that had been crushed), and was now sitting in a rickety chair, leaning onto the damaged windowsill, gazing out into the dark orange sky. The cool breeze gently blew on his face, and his eyes flickered around to each passerby on the street – watching as a couple held hands, or a group of friends began laughing together, or when… two people were having sex in an alleyway.

“Oh god…” Peter groaned out, immediately getting up to try and shake the image out of his mind.

That’s when Peter’s intercom buzzed.

Peter made his way over next to the door, clicking on the button.

“Hello?”

“Delivery from Pool’s Pizzeria. One large sausage pizza.” A man’s voice spoke through the speaker.

“Oh, I didn’t order a sausage pi-”

“WELL THAT’S A SHAME BECAUSE MY SAUSAGE IS THE BEST IN TOWN!”

There was a moment of silence, until Peter sighed, letting his head fall onto the wall in front of him and clicking the button again.

“Deadpool?”

“ _Sir_ Deadpool to you.” The man spoke in that terrible British accent again.

The grinding of Peter’s teeth ached as he mumbled a quick: “Come on up.”

Peter found himself pacing around his average-sized flat as a nocking sounded on his door. He swung it open instantly, staring at the sight before him.

Deadpool stood tall with a large duffle bag in hand, along with a few wooden boards under his arm and a literal window hung around his neck.

“Oh Jesus.” Peter sighed.

“You know, the boxes are kind of disappointed you didn’t want any of my sausage.”

“CAN YOU JUST-” Peter stopped himself, as he knew shouting wouldn’t get his window fixed any faster. “I’m assuming you have all the stuff?”

“Oh, my pants are plenty stuffed, thanks for asking.” He sounded jollier than Old Saint Nick.

“…Just get your ass in here.”

Deadpool complied, taking a step forward, only to be nocked backwards as the large window prevented him from entering.

“Do you have the brains of a dog or something?” Peter questioned, walking over to the man and lifting the heavy window off around his neck.

“That, _and_ their sexual libido.” Deadpool said, now strolling in through the door with ease. Peter couldn’t help but slam it a little harder than needed.

“Okay just… get started I guess.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, I can’t get to work on an empty stomach.”

“Hmm, try eating your sausage. That’ll hold you over.”

Deadpool gasped. “So, you do have a sense of humor!”

Peter rolled his eyes at this, picking up the remote that lay on the water ring-stained coffee table.

“So, kid, what’s your name anyway?”

“Peter… Why?” He turned to the man in question, clearly showing he didn’t trust the other’s intents.

“Just trying to be courteous. You have a very nice home, Peter.”

“Oh.” Peter said, surprised as to the sudden personality change. “Thank you very much.”

“Nice ass, too.” Deadpool mumbled under his breath.

The TV remote was flung across the Livingroom, but Deadpool managed to catch it before it hit him.

“Ooo, feisty are we?"

Peter’s teeth grinding had intensified and was trying his hardest not to lose his tempter, so he merely pointed to the brand-new window. “Now.”

“But _fooooood!_ ” The _grown man_ complained like a baby.

“I’ll… get you _something_ – as long as you get to work on that right away. Deal?”

“Deal!”

Deadpool zipped open the duffle bag, and when he hauled out a chainsaw, Peter knew that this had been a mistake. The man began to work, and Peter watched as the once twilight sky went dark, and the gleam of the full moon shone in through the work-in-progress window.

After five bowls of stew, three accidents involving a _lot_ of blood, and half a dozen noise complaints, it was finally finished.

Peter and Deadpool were stood back, taking in the full beauty of the finished product.

“IT’S UPSIDE DOWN, YOU MORON.” Peter roared.

“Hmm…” Deadpool walked up to the window, realizing how it was supposed to open from the bottom, not the top. “I think it’s nice. Gives it personality.”

“I don’t _need_ personality! I need a window that doesn’t require me to own a god damn step ladder to use it!”

“Oh calm your perfectly shaped balls down.” Deadpool said, picking up the coffee table and laying it in front of the window, which he then stepped on to pull the window down. “See?” He hopped back down next to Peter. “Works perfect!”

“Yeah, it really does!” Peter said with fake enthusiasm. “ _And_ we can put it back there after the doctors remove it from your colon.”

“You know, if you keep saying all these kinky innuendos, you’re going to eventually give me a massive-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” Peter warned, before turning and picking up the duffle bag (as best as his small arms could) and passed it over to Deadpool. “Well thank you so much for an upside-down window, but it’s getting late, so I think you should be heading out.”

Deadpool looked at the boy, shocked. “You’re gonna let lil’ ol’ me walk along the streets at night – ALONE?” The southern accent he said it with was just as bad as his British one.

“…Do you want me-”

“Yes.” Deadpool said firmly.

“I didn’t finish my sentence.”

“And I am begging you not to.”

Peter felt himself sigh for what felt like the thirtieth time that day. “Do you want me to call you a cab?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want me to do!” Peter flung his arms in exasperation.

“Let me stay the night!” The man cheered.

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh Petey, it’ll be so much fun! We can braid each other’s hair, bake cookies, order take-out – oh this is going to be the best slumber party ever!” Deadpool squealed.

Peter wanted to protest. He wanted to tell this bizarre man to get the hell out of his apartment. But honestly, Peter was too tired to even care about the fact that this man might be a murderer – if his costume and weapons were anything to go by – and if he woke up dead tomorrow, at least he wouldn’t have to deal with his shitty job.

 _“Fine.”_ He groaned out, walking over to the small closet to retrieve a pillow and blanket before tossing both at the man. “You can stay for the night, but don’t touch _anything_ … and the couch is yours.” He said, giving the man one final look before retreating to the cozy confines of his bedroom, but not before hearing Deadpool whistle while commenting on his butt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to imagine Wade likes doing impressions of the Golden Girls, so that southern accent thing was definitely a Blanche reference.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Rock Band is a Four-Player Game** _

* * *

 

The elevator in Peter’s apartment building was out of order for the fourth time that month, but that didn’t surprise him. His boss, Mr. J. Jonah Jameson, screamed at him for about twenty-eight minutes straight that morning, as the day before, he had forgotten to send in his panel write-up for the paper all thanks to that… stranger, so it wasn’t a shock that everything that could go wrong that day went wrong.

When Peter had woken up, he had found his apartment empty. There was no sign of the Pool man, and Peter took this as a blessing. He walked to work that day slightly more upbeat, feeling as if though this day would be a good one.

Tragically, he was wrong.

After climbing the last flight of stairs, he reached the floor to his flat – very out of breath at that. As he twisted the key in the hole and turned the knob, he paused.

It sounded like there was music coming from his apartment.

He wasted no time as he pushed his way through the door, only to come face to face – or rather faces – of three figures; one of them he sadly already knew.

“What… the hell?”

Mr. Deadpool was standing in the middle of the living room area along with two other people – one of them humungous, with skin that looked like steel (Making him look completely inhuman), and the other almost the very opposite; tiny with a shaved head and piercings.

“Oh, sugar-buns! Home already?” Deadpool said, laying down what appeared to be a microphone that had been hooked up to a gaming console that Peter definitely did not own, and prancing over in front of the boy. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited some friends over to play Rock Band. You wanna join?” he sounded hopeful.

“WHAT THE HELL?” Peter repeated, his temper now flying off the charts. “Why are you still here? And who in the Sam-hell are these people!” Peter demanded to know.

“Um, there’s no need to be rude.” Deadpool laughed, turning towards his friends as he shook his head from amusement. “This over here is Colossus – he’s a grump.” He whispered at the end. “And over here we have-”

But the person had already approached, and was now holding out their hand for Peter to shake. “Negasonic Teenage Warhead.” Their soprano voice spoke.

“Ne-ga-so-nic-teen-age-war-head.” Peter said stiffly, looking back and forth between the androgynous looking girl and Mr. Deadpool. “That’s a cute name, did you read it off a shirt at Hot Topic?”

“I got it from a song actually-”

“Uh-huh uh-huh, yeah me too.” Peter nodded vigorously, not paying any attention to Miss Negasonic as he turned his attention to the red-suited man. “Mr. Deadpool, maybe I should have specified that I wanted you _out_ of the apartment the moment you woke up.”

Peter wasn’t met with an answer, only a loud cracking sound, and he turned his gaze over to the metal-skinned man, who had just broke one of his kitchen chairs into pieces.

“My apologies.” His Russian-accented voice spoke.

Without another word, Peter carelessly dropped the bag around his shoulder with a deadened expression, and walked off to his room, hoping that this all was just one horrible dream.

He awoke from a deep sleep hours later to the sound of his TV.

“♪-Traveled down the road and back again. Your heart is true your a pal and a confidant.♩”

The door to his room cracked open, and Peter peaked his head out to look down the small shady hall.

“♪And if you through a party; Invited everyone you ever knew.♩”

He was now quickly pacing down it, praying to god that _he_ merely left the TV on before he left. He passed by the kitchen, and was soon facing the Livingroom. He released the breath he was holding, clearly distressed by the situation in front of him.

“-And the card attached would say thank you for being a friend.” Deadpool horribly sung along, rocking his legs back and forth while sitting on the coffee table in front of the TV by his lonesome self.

“Please let there be alcohol.” Peter prayed, swiftly turning on his heels and marching straight to the fridge. There was beer. Beer was all Peter needed in order to drown himself away from his problems.

After practically chugging down the first bottle, Peter reached in to grab another, already feeling the alcohol take effect. He slowly but surely made his way back into the living room. Plopping down onto the couch, he cracked open the second bottle and took a big swig. This seemed to interest Deadpool, as the man jumped up from the coffee table and followed Peter’s lead, plopping down right next to the boy.

“Got any more of those.” He indicated towards the drink.

“You don’t get nuffin’.” Peter slightly slurred out.

Deadpool fake-gasped at this. “Is little Petey upset about something?”

“I’m upset at you!” Peter groaned out. “Why won’t you leave!”

“You never asked me to leave.”

Peter stared at the man, remembering clearly he had told him to leave many times. “I want you to leave.”

“No, no, I want to hear it from you’re lips.” Deadpool whispered, his face now inches away from Peter’s.

“WHERE THE HELL DID YOU HEAR IT FROM BEFORE!” Peter shouted.

“Alright, alright, take it easy!” Deadpool raised his hands defensively. “You want me gone? Fine, consider me gone.”

“Good.” Peter mumbled, letting his head fall back onto the couch. He felt the weight of the cushions shift as a heavy weight was removed from them – only to almost immediately be added back again.

“OH, but I can’t miss this episode of Golden Girls!” Deadpool shrieked, reaching for the remote on the coffee table to turn the volume up. “Oh Petey, you’re gonna love this show, it’s about these four old women who live in a house together and-”

“Uuuughh!” Peter groaned once more, grabbing a pillow to shove his face into.

Mr. Deadpool didn’t leave that night either.


	4. Chapter 4

**_ Since When Could You See Uranus From the Naked Eye? _ **

* * *

 

 “No-… No, aunt May, I promise I’m fine. Yes, okay… Love you too. Bye.” Peter hung up the wall phone, sighing for what felt like the one-hundredth time that day. His aunt May had been worried about him the past week, as he always seemed to sound quite strange over the phone, and while Peter assured her everything was fine, it really wasn’t.

Mr. Deadpool had been staying at his apartment for a _week_ now – much to Peter’s dismay. That didn’t matter though of course, as Deadpool didn’t even seem to notice Peter’s feeble attempts to get the man out of the apartment, such as putting his clothes – or rather suits – that he had outside the apartment door, or trying to make the man’s living situations complete hell, or quite literally tossing the man’s PlayStation off the rooftop. Not even the last one seemed to phase Deadpool, as the next day he had already bought a new one, and even invited Peter to play it with him.

He tried calling the police station, but when peter told the person on the phone that “A man in a red and black suit won’t get out of my apartment and keeps making comments on my ass,” they didn’t believe him.

Peter sighed, walking out of the kitchen and to his apartment window, leaning both arms on the ledge, gazing out into the night. This was Peter’s way of relaxing after a stressful day. He’s always been fascinated by science, and that included space.

“What’cha lookin’ at?” He heard a voice ask from behind him.

The sound of Deadpool’s voice should have irritated Peter, but right now, he felt as if though he were in his own little world, so Mr. Deadpool wasn’t much of a bother.

“Just gazing out at the stars,” Peter sighed. “They’re all so beautiful.”

“They really are.” Peter felt the man hovering by him.

“Look, that over there is the big dipper,” Peter tapped on the class.

“Oh cool…” Deadpool said. “It’s not as big as _my_ dipper, but it’s ‘aight.”

Peter’s expression immediately turned dead.

“Oh oh, there’s Ursa Minor!” Deadpool pointed in excitement. Peter followed the man’s finger, to where he found the constellation relatively easily.

“Huh… I didn’t think you would know that.” Peter said.

“I know my stuff,” Deadpool held his chin high. “For example, did you know that nearly all bonobos are bisexual, and seventy-five percent of bonobo sex is not for reproduction?”

“I… didn’t.”

“And, did you know that I’m pansexual, and one-hundred percent of my sex is _not_ for reproduction?”

“What the fuck.”

“-aaaand if you want, you can have a test run-”

Peter flicked his leg up backwards, smashing directly into Deadpool’s crotch. Peter didn’t look back, but he heard a loud thump hitting the ground.

“So that’s a no?” Deadpool gasped out. “Felt like a no.”

Peter could only roll his eyes at this as he gazed back out into the night.

“Man, what is it with you and your loving desire for kicking people’s crotches?” Deadpool’s wobbly voice asked, clearly in pain as he slowly stood back up.

“Your own fault.” Peter hummed. There was a moment of silence as the two began staring back out the window.

“Whoa, it that Uranus?” Deadpool asked, mystified.

“Uh-huh uh-huh, I get it. Uranus; my anus. Ha-ha, very funny.” Peter’s voice deadpanned.

“No Petey, I’m being serious, look over there.” Deadpool tapped on the glass. Peter looked back at the man, surprised by the fact that he seemed very serious. Peter once again followed Deadpool’s finger, though with no such luck. He bent over, leaning in closer to the window as he searched to find the planet, questioning how Deadpool had found it so easily.

“Wow, it looks magnificent.” Deadpool awed.

“Where? I don’t see it-” Peter turned around to look at the man in question, only to see him bent sideways, staring directly at Peter’s ass. Peter’s foot shot up once more, but this time it didn’t land in the man’s crotch. A popping noise met Peter’s ears, and then came the yelling.

“OW!” Deadpool shouted, stumbling back until he could go no further, to which his knees hit the back of the coffee table. There was a smashing sound, and when Peter finally looked back to what was happening, all he saw was Deadpool clutching his nose with his hands, lying in the middle of smashed debris.

“Oh shit!” Peter said, running to the man in a panic.

“I fink my nosh ish bwoken.” Deadpool said as Peter kneeled besides him.

“J-just move your hands out of the way so I can see.”

Deadpool complied, and when doing so, Peter couldn’t help but let out a gasp. Though, the mask masked the _exact_ damages, Deadpool’s nose was about twenty degrees off from where it was normally.

“Jesus Christ I… I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, it’s alright Petey,” Deadpool assured the boy. “I’ve had worse.”

Peter helped him up off the smashed table, before directing him to sit on the couch.

“Okay,” Deadpool said. “I can crack it back in place, but I’m gonna need your help.”

“Umm… Shouldn’t you get a doctor to look at that?” Peter began to feel nervous.

“No, no. I can do it, easy-penis-y.”

“D-do you mean ‘peasy’?”

“Sure." The man shrugged.

"Now,” Deadpool began once again. “Are you able to help?”

“I-I guess so…”

“Don’t worry, it won’t be hard. I just need you to sit in my lap-”

“Never in a million years.”

Despite wearing a mask, Peter could swear Deadpool had rolled his eyes. “It’s so I won’t hurt myself in the process, dummy.”

“Oh… okay then… yeah I guess I’m okay with this.” Peter said.

Deadpool merely opened his arms, indicating that he was waiting. Peter cautiously walked in front of the man, before placing one leg on one side of Deadpool, and his other one on the other side, making him come face to face, and chest to chest with the man. Peter felt himself beginning to blush almost immediately.

“Okay,” Deadpool’s voice was low and husky. “I’m going to do this quickly, so prepare yourself for anything.”

Peter gulped, watching as the man’s hands slowly went to his broken nose. There was a moment of silence, before Deadpool’s hands quickly moved, flicking sideways, to which a snap soon followed. Deadpool’s legs flung upwards, most likely in reaction to the searing pain he was probably feeling, and Peter yelped, feeling his body flung into the man’s chest. There was heavy breathing, before a low growl emerged from Deadpool. Peter slowly pushed himself away from the man. The first thing he noticed was that the once broken nose was now perfectly angular again.

“Holy shit.” Peter breathed out.

“I know, I’m pretty fucking awesome.”

Peter laughed at this, before a question popped into his head.

“Wait, so why exactly did I have to sit in your lap? Did you think you were going to somehow knee yourself in the face?” He asked the man.

“Oh no, not at all. I just wanted you close to me, so your raw sexual magnetism distracted me from the scorching pain.”

Peter’s face went blank. In very stiff movements, Peter stood himself up from the man’s lap, turned around, and headed straight to the bathroom, hoping to god that the hot water would boil his skin off.


	5. Chapter 5

**_ Chimichangas are a Boy's Best Friend _ **

* * *

 

Late one afternoon, Peter was sitting cross-legged on his bed, notebook and pencil in hand. He was coming up with ideas for his next article for the paper, though was completely stumped. It wasn’t like him to not have ideas poring out of him, and for that he could only blame one person.

“Stupid shit-pool.” Peter grumbled under his breath.

Deadpool certainly was taking up much of Peter’s attention. That morning he was late to work because he accidently slept in, and that was due to the ruckus Deadpool had been making the night before.

Some marathon was on TV – something about… Golden people? Peter couldn’t remember the name exactly, but what he did remember was lying in bed, crying over the fact that Deadpool wouldn’t stop moaning out “Betty White,” at least five times a minute. Peter didn’t want to go out in the living room to confront the man either, as he was afraid Deadpool had been… touching himself.

Peter shuddered at the thought.

He didn’t really know what to call their… living arrangement. Deadpool was all but oblivious to Peter’s intense dislike towards the man, though the plus side of it all, Peter didn’t have to pay this month’s rent. Deadpool so graciously gave Peter a stack of cash, telling him to “Go by something pretty,” to which he then casually listed all the different types of lingerie he was into, and while Peter contemplated shoving the wad of cash up the man’s ass and lighting it on fire, he decided he would keep it for essentials, for he knew that if he did the former, Deadpool would probably find some way to enjoy it.

Peter settled on making an article on the sciences behind addiction. Simple really, but still an interesting read.

“Petey,” Deadpool’s voice sung from outside the door.

“Yes, Deadpool?” Peter asked, annoyed.

“Can I come in, or are you still yankin’ on the ol’ elephant trunk?”

Peter’s brows furrowed. “What? Yanking on the elephant tru-… Ugh!”

“I’m assuming that’s a no.” Deadpool piped, poking his head in through the door. “I’m ordering takeout – chimichangas. You want any?”

“Uh, I don’t think I’ve ever really had a chimichanga before, so no thanks.”

Deadpool gasped, before putting his hand up to his forehead, acting as if he were about to faint.

“Are you KIDDING?” Deadpool pleaded to know.

“W-… what’s the big deal?” Peter asked, utterly confused by the man’s ridiculous reaction.

“Petey, chimichangas are like… the food version of sex. You MUST give ‘em a try!”

“Fine, I’ll try one, but you’re paying.” Peter gave in too easily, but only because he wanted the man to leave him alone. Peter ignored the abrupt cheers that emerged from the other, as he went back to focusing on his article.

“What’re you writing?” Deadpool’s curiosity piqued.

“An article on addiction for the paper.”

“Ah…” Deadpool trailed off. “I’ve had my fair share of addiction problems.”

Peter looked up, surprised.

“Really?” His voice was sympathetic. “If you don’t mind me asking, what were you addicted to? Drugs? Alcohol?”

“Anal masturbation.” Deadpool said matter-of-factly.

“Get the fuck out of my room.”

The take-out took about an hour to arrive, and when it did, Deadpool screamed out to Peter to answer the door, as he was apparently taking a bath. Up till then, Peter didn’t even know that Deadpool had been using his shower. As he walked to the intercom, he thought of how he would have to throw his tub out once he got the chance.

Peter pressed in on the button. “Hello?”

“Delivery for Wade,” A female voice spoke. “Five pounds of chimichangas.”

 _Who’s Wade?_ Peter thought, though his mind then focused on the other, more worrying part. “Five pounds…?” Peter breathed. He clicked on the button again. “Come on up.”

The elevator in the building was still broken, so he knew it would take a few minutes for the delivery person to get there, so he quickly turned on his heels and headed to the bathroom, knocking on the door.

“Come in.” Deadpool said from the other side.

“Hey, Deadpool, the delivery person said-”

“WHOA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” Deadpool screamed, butt-naked (besides the mask he wore).

Peter’s scream soon followed. “JESUS CHRIST! Y-YOU SAID, ‘COME IN’!” He immediately stepped back into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. “Oh my god.” He said to himself, stalking back out into the kitchen.

Deadpool soon came following behind, fully dressed.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” Peter demanded to know.

“Sorry, I must’ve said it out of habit.” Deadpool sighed.

“Out of habit?”

“Yeah, you know, when you got someone over, and you’re lying naked across the bathroom floor-”

“PLEASE,” Peter cut him off. “Enough with your sex stories.”

“Your loss.” Deadpool hummed with what Peter could only guess was an annoyingly bright smile. A knock on the door soon came, and Deadpool walked over, pulling out a wad of cash from his back pocket. Peter wondered where he was getting all this money from.

When Deadpool opened the door, Peter couldn’t help but let out a groan.

The Negasonic girl was standing in the door way, large bag in hand.

“Hey,” She said. “Saw a delivery guy at the door with a bag full of chimis, so I could only assume it was for you.”

“You guessed right!” Deadpool cheered like an overgrown child. “Come on in, we were just about to eat.”

Negasonic’s eyes shifted over to meet Peter. “Wade, why’s this kid still in your apartment?”

Peter’s temper skyrocketed the moment the words came out of her mouth.

 _“Kid? His apartment?”_ He hissed out, before turning to Deadpool. “Deadpool, who the fuck is this child and why is she back in _my apartment_?”

“I’m none of your business, four-eyes.”

“Guys, cool it!” Deadpool shouted getting both of their attention.

Peter only huffed at this, though he didn’t say anymore, not wanting to let the girl get to him. “Whatever. Lets just eat some food.”

Negasonic mumbled under her breath. “By the looks of it, you could lose some of that food-”

“You listen to me you little gothic shit-”

“No, screw you, dweeb!”

“GUYS, COOL IT!” Deadpool shouted once more. Both Peter and Negasonic turned away from one another, muttering cursed words under their breath.

The three of them sat down at the tiny kitchen table; the whole bag of chimichangas now opened and scattered around. Peter was surprised when he took his first bite, as he really did enjoy the taste.

“Damn, they really are good.” Peter enthused.

“Right?” Deadpool agreed. “They’re amazing. When you just stuff it in your mouth, not caring how big it is, and feel those hot juices slowly run down your throat-”

“You’re still talking about chimichangas, right?”

“Chimi-what? Oh, oh yeah, sure.” Deadpool brushed him off.

The next thing Peter knew, he was picking up a fork and stabbing it into the man’s hand.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Advil for When Your Roommate Acts Extra_ **

* * *

 

Another day of work meant another day of Peter suffering. Luckily his boss, Mr. J. Jonah Jameson, seemed to be in a better than usual mood that day, so Peter got off early. Walking along the sidewalk, he approached his apartment building. By the time he reached the door, he was fishing in his pockets for his key, but after a good minute, Peter accepted that he left it in his desk at the office.

“Shit.” Peter cursed. He then reached towards the buzzer, clicking the button to call up to his apartment. “Please, please answer, Deadpool.”

After a few seconds, a sound came through the speaker.

“Nph, y-… Yes, Deadpool residence,” Deadpool responded, sounding very out of breath.

Peter ignored the comment about Deadpool claiming ownership. “Hey, it’s me. I left my keys at the office, so can you make yourself useful for once and open the door?”

“N-… Ah… No can dosville, Petey. I have a guest over-”

“HARDER! HARDER!” A voice screamed out.

Peter immediately took a step back from the intercom, clearly showing just how shocked he was. He then smashed his finger on the button, trying his hardest to not have his rage consume him.

“Deadpool... Are you having sex with a stranger… in my… apartment?” His voice was stiff and robotic, though the sound of skin slapping made the answer quite clear.

“Yessir-… OH! Do that again!”

“Oh god dammit,” Peter groaned loudly, “you better unlock this door right fucking now!”

“Well I do love threesomes-”

“ _DEADPOOL…_ ” Peter warned him. He then shouted at the man some more, but Deadpool’s end fell silent, and he definitely took notice as the passersby’s on the street seemed to think he might be insane. It took all his strength not to try and smash the intercom to pieces.

After a good half-hour of waiting, another tenant from the building was leaving, and Peter caught the door before it could close. As fast as his legs could take him, he sprinted up through the stairway to his floor, and when he reached his door, his hand hovered over the handle before freezing. Did he really wanna see Deadpool’s _thing_ out and _in_ whatever self-hating person he’s screwing?

No, definitely not. Instead, he settled for sitting out in the hallway, listening as the man in question roared like something from Peter’s nightmares. Luckily, just like his nightmares, the sounds came to a climax (literally), and soon enough Peter was shuffling to his feet as his apartment door opened.

“That was amazing, baby-” Deadpool cut himself off as he noticed Peter witnessing him and a boy in the doorway. “Petey! How’d you get in?”

“Fuck you, that’s how.”

The boy looked worryingly from Deadpool to Peter. “Um… Hi, my name is Bobby.” He stuck out his hand for Peter to shake.

“Bobby has a bleached asshole.” Deadpool declared happily.

Peter gave Deadpool a dead stare, not even taking a glance at the hand reached out to him. For all Peter knew, that hand could've touched Deadpool in places Peter would rather not think about.

“Yeah… I should get going, I’ll see you later, Wade?” Bobby said, sensing how awkward the situation became.

“Ah ah ah, do I get a kiss goodbye?” Deadpool hummed. When the man leaned in to kiss the boy, Peter let out a hissing noise, causing them both to look at him. Deadpool was quick to understand Peter wasn’t having it.

“Okay, how about a sexually charged embrace?” Deadpool asked, though the question wasn’t directed at Bobby.

Peter stiffly shook his head.

“Yeah um… I’ll see you later.” Bobby declared before scurrying off to the stairwell.

Peter robotically walked past Deadpool to enter his apartment, and the man closed the door behind him.

“That Bobby’s such a nice guy,” He hummed. “I bet you two would really hit it off Pet-”

“ _DEADPOOL…_ ” Peter cut the man off, swiftly turning on his heels to face him. “I swear if you say another word, I will gut you and play skip-rope with your large intestine.”

Deadpool looked at the boy surprised. “Wow Pete, I must be rubbing off on you for you to say some fucked up shit like that.”

Peter merely glared at the man before sighing. “I learn from the best, I guess.”

“Aww, Petey, are you callin’ lil ’old me the best?” There was that horrible southern accent. “Shucks, I could just butter you up and shove ya’ up into my dark places!” The man said before letting out a giggle.

“Oh, oh god I feel a migraine coming on.” Peter worryingly said while putting a hand to his head.

“Don’t worry about that! Dr. Pool has just the cure.” Deadpool announced before prancing off to the bathroom, only to return with a box of Advil. This certainly surprised Peter, as he couldn’t remember the last time he ever really had Advil in his cabinets since money was usually tight, so he tried baring through any pain most of the time.

“Did you buy this?” Peter asked.

“Sure did! I heard you complaining about having headaches after you got home from work, so I figured I’d go get you some.”

“Wow… That was really thoughtful of you.” Peter said, surprised by the man’s caring nature that wasn’t seen too often.

“Anything for Petey-cakes.” Deadpool hummed, which Peter had to laugh at the nickname.

Peter poured up some tap water before downing the pill and the glass in one full gulp. As he then took at seat at the kitchen table, he watched as the man paced around the living room, taking to himself, which really wasn’t uncommon.

A question soon came to mind and Peter couldn’t help but ask it.

“Hey um… what’s your name?”

Deadpool looked up from the floor to stare at the boy, only this time his whole demeanor seemed to change.

“Why would you want to know?” Deadpool asked, his voice sounding heavily intimidating while he cautiously stepped towards the boy.

“Wh- Jesus Christ dude, it was just a question. I damn well know your real name isn’t _Deadpool,_ and lately I’ve been hearing your guests call you Wade.”

Deadpool stayed silent for a moment.

“Well you’ve heard right. The name’s Wade. Wade Wilson.” The man then let out a breath. “Sorry for getting so serious, Petey. I’m just not used to people wanting to know stuff about me. I’m pretty protective of my personal info.”

“You? Protective?” Peter was shocked, as most of the time it seemed that the man said whatever came to mind without any sort of filter.

“Baby boy…” Peter could hear the grinning in Wade’s voice. “Protective is my middle name. I _always_ use protection - unless it’s anal!”

Peter couldn’t help the disgusted look that his faced formed into. “Gross.”

Wade light-heartedly laughed at the boy’s reaction, and Peter merely smiled while shaking his head. Slowly but surely, he felt this strange enigma in front of him opening up, and he _really_ couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't listen to Deadpool - always practice safe sex.


	7. Chapter 7

**_ Caroling with Katanas _ **

* * *

 

With the holidays quickly approaching, New York ran wild with crazed shoppers running along the streets of Manhattan. But luckily for a certain someone, Christmas shopping was all finished.

With a hot cup of cocoa in hand, Peter sat in his living room, watching Christmas movies like he always did during the season. Usually he would be with Aunt May, but she was volunteering at the local food-bank in Queens, and today Peter was feeling just a tad selfish. The last few months have been hard on him, but things seemed to be turning out all right again. His boss never really seemed to be on his case anymore, he was finally able to sign back up for classes now that he had the money, and Deadpool’s lovemaking sessions with his Betty White blowup doll seemed to be happening a lot more sporadically instead of every night.

Peter stabbed the first few dolls he found with a knife, but when it seemed that Deadpool had an endless supply of Betty Whites, he stopped bothering.

Deadpool… Or as Peter now called him, Wade.

Despite Wade seeming like a demon summoned from the pits of hell to antagonize the boy, Peter was more than willing to let him stay in his apartment (as if he had any choice) for all the extra cash the man gave him. Wade offered Peter an opportunity for _even more_ money, but Peter wasn’t up for hogtying Wade to his bed while he stepped on the man in six-inch heels.

By the time his hot drink was half gone, Wade pranced into the room in a pink hello kitty tee along with pajama bottoms and rabbit slippers to tie the whole look together. Of course, the mask he _always_ wore remained on his face, but that didn’t surprise Peter.

“Hey pumpkin!” Wade said in what he probably thought was a cute voice as he jumped on to the couch next to Peter.

“Don’t call me that,” Peter sighed.

“I invited a little miss Warhead over, just thought I’d tell ‘ya!”

“Oh, come on!” Peter groaned, slamming the mug down on the coffee table. “Why do you always invite her over here? The iron-looking dude and Bobby are fine, but I don’t want _her_ in my apartment!”

“She’s my friend, Petey. And besides, she likes hanging out with us.”

“She likes hanging out with _you_ ,” Peter corrected.

“She likes you too.” The man insisted.

“The last time I saw little miss Gothic, we didn’t exactly get along, Wade.”

“You were being mean to her,” he reminded.

“SHE FLICKED ACID AT MY FEET!” Peter roared.

“It only burned through your shoes – there was no permanent damage!”

“Wade…” Peter warned, and though he was about to say some vile words to the man, the apartment intercom buzzed. Peter groaned, hating that she was here already.

“Well if she’s not allowed over then you’re gonna have to be the one to break the news!”

“Gladly,” Peter said as he hopped up and walked to the buzzer. With the swift press of a button, Peter let her have it. “Listen you gothic fuck, you are NOT coming up here and neither are your bottles of acid so you might as well turn your pale boney ass around and go back to Party City with all the other freaks!”

There was silence on the other end, until a click registered, and a soft yet terrified voice came through.

“Uh… Pete… It’s Harry and MJ. We figured we’d stop by while we were in the area, but we can come back later,” Harry said.

Peter felt like he was in a state of shock. “Oh my god,” he whispered to himself. He clicked on the buzzer once again. “S-sorry, I thought you two were someone else. It’s open, come on up.”

“Thanks-“ MJ started, but was interrupted by a voice.

“Hold the door!” They shouted, and Peter instantly knew the owner.

“MJ, don’t let her up!” Peter called out, but wasn’t met with any answer back, so he knew it was already too late. “Oh god.” He groaned.

“Was it Warhead?” Wade called out from the living room.

Peter quickly made haste back to the man. “Wade, we have a problem.” He said in a panicked voice.

The eyes of Wade’s mask comically widened, and his hand shot down behind the couch, only to pull out a katana.

“Jesus Christ, not that kind of problem!” Peter quickly shouted, before then pointing a finger at the man. “But we’re going to talk about that later.”

Wade sheathed the sword, back behind the couch.

“My friends are on their way up here, and Negasonic is with them-”

“Aww, Petey, you have friends?” Wade said like an asshole.

“Fuck you, of course I have friends,” Peter hissed. “You’ve just never met them because I’ve been trying my hardest to have that not happen.”

“Don’t you want them to meet your boyfriend?”

“Yes, and when Tom Cruise gets here, I’ll be sure to introduce them to him.” Peter said sarcastically.

“So, what I’m getting out of this conversation is that you won’t let me bone you, but you’ll let a fifty-year old man-”

“WHAT ARE YOU TALK ABOUT? WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUT RIGHT NOW?” Peter cut the man off. “We have things to do, dammit!”

“What kinds of things?” Wade winked.

“First off,” Peter pointed at the man. “You’re gonna get Negasonic out of my apartment because I can’t have her flicking acid at me or my friends. Second, you are going to go with her to wherever you go to jack during the day.”

“I don’t get to meet your friends?” Wade pouted.

“No, because knowing you, you’ll try to sleep with them,”

“I won’t, I promise!”

“No, there’s no way in hell-”

A knocking sounded on Peter’s door.

“Oh no,” Peter said in a desperate voice. He was hoping he could get Wade out of the apartment before they arrived. He would have never thought he’d be mentally cursing the landlord for finally fixing that stupid elevator in the building. “Okay, think Peter, think…” Peter’s eyes scanned the room, looking for anything to shove Wade in for the hour. When his eyes traced over his window, Peter got an idea.

“The fire escape!” He shouted, grabbing Wade’s arm and dragging him over in front of it. “Okay hurry up and climb on through,”

“It’s cold outside!” Wade whined.

“I don’t care!”

“Petey, the window opens upside down,”

“Yeah, well who’s fault is that!”

“I dunno, but who ever did it did a fantastic job.”

Peter’s knee shot up at a violent speed, smashing into the man’s crotch, causing Wade to immediately begin toppling over, but Peter quickly caught the man by his face. Peter moved in close, so that his face was inches from Wade’s.

“Now you listen to me, and you listen good,” Peter’s voice was low and husky. “you’re get your ass up and over that window or so help me god I will skin you and turn you into a rug.”

“But Petey, I’m way too big to get through,”

“Peter, open up! We’re here, and so is your other friend!” MJ called behind the door.

Peter didn’t have time for this.

“Wade, if you do this for me, I will give you one kiss.”

The man was on his feet in no time, doing his best to scale up the wall and through the now opened window.

“Petey, give me a boost!” Wade said. Peter complied, putting a hand under one of the man’s feet as he tried his hardest to push the man up and through the opened glass. If they have had a few more seconds, they probably would’ve accomplished their goal, but Peter heard Negasonic growing impatient, to which she opened the door herself.

Peter went wide-eyed, quickly shuffling away from the window to meet the eyes of the three curious figures gaping at the scene.

“Peter, where’d you go?” Wade called out on the other side of the window, as only half of his body had made it through. His legs kicked aggressively, trying to find any kind of traction.

“…I-I can explain…” Peter stuttered out at their audience, but he didn’t have time to as Wade’s knee came in contact with the lower pane, causing the whole window to shatter under all the pressure.

After a few screams and a lot of broken glass, Wade was sprawled on the floor, groaning as Peter was – along with the three guests – stunned. After a few moments, Peter merely turned to MJ and Harry and said;

“Umm… guys, this is Wade…” he said, pointing to the mess of a man on his living room floor.

“Hiya!” Wade said in the happiest, most unfitting voice for the current situation possible, and Peter couldn’t help but let out deadened laughter.


End file.
